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[begot]

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AMY

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[begot]

Yeah.

[ Easy, like it's the most natural thing in the world, like most people wouldn't take the way he's asked as indicating annoyance. (Granted, she'd answer the same way even if she couldn't read him at all. ) ]

Something about the little— [ her fingers wave in the air, an unconscious mirror of an unseen gesture ] —the bonnet. Hat? It's cute, don't you think?

[ Which is not quite do you think you're cute, but likely isn't of the strain of questions he usually gets, either. ]

[scathe]

[is this a trick is held on his tongue. he meets her with silence and his jaw works the words back down into nothing, reshapes them into something more acceptable:]

You think it's cute.

[he's doing what most would consider too much of repeating back. women see men – no, the world, differently than men. they can look at a stuffed animal and think this is someone i know when all elias sees is an unnecessary object he has no use for. this teddy is amy being thoughtful. this cute shape is amy being grateful. graceful, even. she has the natural gravitational pull of it and he'll always be outside the orbit of women like her.]

Sure, whatever. [that's the closest thing to a 'thank you' she's going to get.] You don't have to do this shit with me.

[begot]

[ It's an echo, sure, but Amy's spent enough time around Elias to recognize it as tangible effort, too. Effort not to be rude, effort to make space instead of jumping directly to fight or flight. (He's called her about it, instead of throwing it away immediately.)

So: ]

I know I don't have to.

[ In her room, she digs the nail of her pointer finger into the pad of her thumb. ]

A few of us got charms. I didn't want you to be left out.

[ Be left out, not feel left out — an important distinction, when one is objective and the other subjective. ]

[scathe]

[for all the sharp edges and natural go fuck yourself energy elias is, when he's alone, he's allowed to soften. amy can't see the shift of his expression or droop of tense shoulders, or the automatic resistance that comes with his territory, but she can hear the silence. she's navigating him carefully, like if she takes one wrong step a bear trap will snap her ankle.]

I'm not gonna put it on my water bottle.

[but he's not going to toss it, either. inclusion isn't normal for him like it is for her. the younger girls gravitate toward her – he's seen it. he's watched. she has a voice someone would want to keep listening to – smooth and confident and soft. she takes space and people notice her. she's noticed for popularity and elias is used to being noticed for fear. watch him and be watched. the bear gets sat on his desk, his finger poking at its nose and tilting it back, back, back,

the keychain scrapes the table when it falls over.]

I guess. I guess it's okay.

[begot]

[ I guess it's okay. A little victory, a small concession. A huff of breath sounds from the other end of the line — not a laugh, but a smile. (Important to convey, even if he can't see it.) He'll keep it, then. It's cuter, almost, that it'll live somewhere in his room — presumably — than on his water bottle or on a bag. ]

I'm glad.

[ The kind of response typically given to a more enthusiastic I love it or this is great! Amy-speak, polished and perfect. One concession in exchange for another, when, even at rest, he projects a kind of energy that could cut glass. (Like a wild animal. Maybe he'd known the warmth of a home, once. But now— well, he doesn't know how to fight like that for no reason.) ]

You'll have to tell me more about what you like. [ Have to as in an ask, not a command. ] Not now, necessarily, but— eventually.

[scathe]

[he's out of his element and amy is in hers. every genuine ask is a suspicious mark, a blotted mess in his head. roza had told him the people here are different, that their empathy and sympathy were real, but she trusts differently than he does. elias prickles where amy opens, with her breathy laugh being carried through the studio like she was made for vacation houses and hor d'oeuvres while he was made for shady deals and holding a gun to someone's forehead.]

Ah, you don't gotta know about me. [he says this dismissively with an upward quirk of his lips, waving the attention in another direction. the tension between them has de-escalated, tipping into more casual waters.] You good for tomorrow?

[begot]

[ The moment breaks.

She's sort of used to this, now. Training is one thing — they both have a clear objective, which makes things easier — but socializing is another entirely. When his arsenal gets pared down to conversation, it's like turning the handle of a jack-in-the-box. If she's not careful, the gears will spring, and she doesn't particularly want that. She likes the box, neat and closed; prefers not to get giggled at by the thing inside.

Not that he's a jack, not really. Faulty metaphor, maybe. ]

Yep!

[ A pop on the closing consonant. (He gets off easy, when she considers answering with don't you want to know about me?) ]

I'll see you bright and early.

🎀

[scathe]

Alright, Amy.

[a beat. silence long enough to think he may have ended the call, but elias doesn't forget things as simple as cutting the line off, and the build of a new peculiar tension rises.]

You're favoring your left side. Don't bullshit me if you need an extra day.

[abruptly and before he can say anything else, he hangs up.]